Pain Isn’t Gentle…

not-quite Journaling, 70

undear Instagram,
your updates suck rotten toes;
bring back recent posts

4/19/2024: My chronic pain group was asked to write about something that made our lives more difficult in a personal level. When I said that I was broken up over Instagram removing the recent posts filter, someone gave me a disdainful look and said some unflattering things about “[my] first world problem”. I wasn’t in the best of moods--I’d spent half the night puking, a migraine was threatening to pop my left eyeball, and my torn back muscle had rejoined the agony party--so, I might’ve told them to f*ck off. With feeling. I know, overreaction galore. But it was a crappy day quickly turning into a crappy week. My brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t work particularly well under those conditions.

 

disturbing,
climate change killing
prettily

5/5/2024: I’ve never seen these wee beauties in my bit of New York City. They are known by many names (Scilla luciliae, violet beauty), Lucile’s-glory-of-the-snow is my favorite. The combination makes me think of brightness and warmth. Also, it’s the perfect name for a flower that blooms from frosty February to still chilly March (or all the way into May… when the weather’s slightly mad).

 

in a tiny pot,
my wee orange seedling sprouts
cuteness overload

5/13/2024: I can’t look at this green baby without blooming into smiles. 🌱🥰🌱

thorns & curls
in my wee garden,
soothing green

5/15/2024: I love the twists and coils, the play of green and metal, the thorns and stones and warmth--soothe for the soul.

 

In flesh and bone, pain
wails misery’s old song;
in soil, Nature (and I)
bloom cornflowers,
spirit balm,
hope.

5/26/2024: Chronic pain and I have been fighting over my body for weeks. I haven’t landed many punches, not until last night--I slept six hours straight! and woke up to a balcony bursting with bachelor’s buttons. Small steps, right? Then, a glorious kick to the teeth. Yes, I’m talking to you, Chronic Pain Bastard.

 

Pain isn’t gentle,
so I must be
hard--grab it by the throat
and squeeze
poetry out of every scream.

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
~ Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

 
– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…)

Wild and Wilder Woods

not-quite Journaling, 69

 Wishes of doom steal hope
from all.

 12/5/2023: Some truths are that simple. Wishes of gloom and doom infect every heart involved. The opposite is also true, positivity and goodwill can be delightfully contagious--so, let the kindness spread.

 

Dark days wither,
not love.

12/13/2023: This one tells me that, every now and again, when pain seems interminable and hope feels like a myth, we must remind ourselves of the sweeter aspects of our reality. What does it say to you?

 

All I want is you
and wild and wilder woods.

 4/30/2024: All right, so that’s a HUGE fib--I also want to garden under the sun, to run 13 miles a week, to sleep through the night, to read printed books for hours, to travel to the Dominican Republic, to spend the whole day cleaning my home, to swim in a clean river (it’s been forever!), to eat grapefruit, to visit secondhand bookshops, to sip a tiny glass of peach wine, to dance all night long, to… well, you get my drift. The closer I get to the end of my current treatment (this summer 🤞🏾), the more hopeful (and impatient) I get about being able to do so many seemingly trivial things (again).

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #127: All I want is…)